Five Things That Never Happened to Inara Serra
by carmensandiego1
Summary: This is a based on the 'five things' challenge, a collection of five separate short pieces, taking place in five separate potential timelines. All focus on the character of Inara.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Five Things That Never Happened to Inara Serra**

Author: carmensandiego

Rating: M, for maturity of content in some parts

Spoilers: Anything and everything goes, although very little of this is set in relation to specific Firefly/Serenity events.

Author's Note: This is a collection of five separate short fics, taking place in five separate potential timelines.

**1**

The first day Inara meets the woman, it is only days after her eleventh birthday. It is the middle of autumn, and the days are growing shorter. She was picking a few late flowers along the edge of her family's property when a hover carriage stopped nearby.

"Aren't you a pretty young lady." The woman steps out onto the road. She's wrapped in a long sari of deep lavender silk, and gold sparkles at her neck and wrists. Even her long hair shimmers. She's the most elegant woman Inara has ever seen.

Inara smiles back tentatively. Though terraformed primarily for agriculture, the moon Demeter is accustomed to visits from glamorous Sihnon – where Inara guesses this woman must be from – but still, she has been taught not to be effusive with strangers. She clutches her flowers.

"Tell me dear, do you like roses?" She reaches back into her carriage and pulls out a long box. It's tied with a gold ribbon and glimmers almost as much as her garments. She pulls the ribbon and opens the box to reveal what must be a dozen flowers.

Inara pauses slightly, looking from the small wildflowers in her own hands and back to the glamorous bouquet in this stranger's hands. She's seen roses before, usually in pictures. They don't grow on Demeter - something about the moon's soil composition that even terraforming couldn't change. As the box opens, though, the floral scent spills out and Inara's curiosity takes over. She's only ever read about roses, along with so many things from different worlds she's never seen.

The woman holds out the box for a moment and then smiles again at Inara's hesitation. "I can see you're a bright young girl, as well. And why shouldn't you be a little cautious, after all, hmm?" Her head shakes as her expression remains warm. "I was given these by an admirer, but they'll begin to wilt before I can bring them back to my own home."

Now Inara smiles to herself again, watching as the woman pulls out a pair of roses and holds them out to her. She can't resist, and in the process doesn't notice the appraising glance this visitor is giving her.

"They smell so...I'm not sure." She inhales again, draws the flowers closer to her nose. "I like it." Inara's smile broadens.

"Give one to your mother, my dear," the woman tells her, before turning away towards the carriage. "I'm afraid I must carry on to the station." Her jewelry chimes as she steps into her seat and puts the box back in its place. "Perhaps I'll see you again soon."

She settles herself and continues down the road with a wave. Inara smiles back, polite, watching as the carriage disappears around the bend in the road. She looks down at her hands, thinks that now the few flowers she has picked are not enough to surround their two new, bright red companions.

Inara continues searching for flowers, and her bouquet grows. Half an hour later her father calls her in to dinner and the roses are lost in an armful of poppies and lavender. When she comes inside her mother greets Inara with a smile, which broadens when her daughter deposits the bouquet in her hands.

Two weeks later, Inara comes home from school, late from having lingered at a game with the others. She does this often, now. There's a boy from a farm on the other side of the village who has started becoming friendly with her.

When she arrives back at home she's still warm from running and her cheeks are pink from the sun. She comes in through the back and hears the voices before the door is even closed behind her.

Sometimes her mother sees patients at home, and for a moment Inara guesses that this is the case today. But there is something in the tenor of their voices that dismisses that in her mind. She steps forward quietly and listens.

"I'm sure if you give this matter some thought, you may change your mind after all…" She recognizes the voice now, remembering the woman who gave her the flowers, and her tone tells Inara this is a serious conversation. She lingers in the corridor, peeking in at the two women sitting in the front room.

Her mother is already shaking her head before their visitor can say anything else. "You've already heard my answer," she says clearly. "There is nothing left to discuss."

The visitor rises. Her gestures and tone of voice are still the very measure of elegance, but there is a firmness to them that carries an edge. "Your family would naturally receive a very generous sum. In gratitude, of course."

Her mother stands now, too. "So I'll feel better about putting my daughter into high class slavery, then?" She shakes her head. "You underestimate me, madam. And you haven't the slightest idea what my daughter wishes for herself, or her life ahead."

"And so you will not even allow her to consider this opportunity? Think of the life she could lead..."

"That's exactly what I'm thinking of. She's just a child--"

"--who will soon be a woman. Think of the doors that would be opened for her, the influence that would be in her power. Her beauty is already emerging, surely you must see that."

Inara lifts a tentative hand, brushing back the locks of hair that have fallen forward. She's not used to compliments; still doesn't understand how to respond to them. Her mother sometimes tells her that she is pretty, but it's not something she looks for. Never has she heard anyone say that she could be powerful because of it.

A floorboard shifts under her foot, and the women turn at the noise. Two smiles greet Inara, one much broader than the other.

Her mother crosses the room first, presses a kiss to her forehead and puts her arms around her briefly. "Sweetheart, why don't you go find your father. He has some new books for you. I think he's writing in his study at the moment..." Her mother flickers a glance over her shoulder, and Inara knows she is being told to make herself scarce.

Still, she cannot help but glance wide-eyed at the visitor, curious to know what they are talking about. "She was here before," Inara comments to her mother. "What does she want?"

"Nothing, my dear. She is leaving soon."

"Actually, Inara," the woman says, approaching, "I was telling your mother about a wonderful opportunity for you. I think you might like it."

Inara's curious, now, but she can feel her mother's grasp tighten around her hand. She looks up and sees her expression, how the worry lines at her forehead and mouth have deepened just slightly. She's seen her mother look like this before, and it's always been for a reason. She wants to ask what is going on, but the women's conversation continues.

"And I've told you already, madam, what our family's answer is."

The woman doesn't seem to have heard. She keeps looking at Inara. "You're the one who must decide, young lady. Wouldn't you like to hear what I can offer you? There are other young women, just as beautiful as you, and they have all come to live on Sihnon. You could come and live with them, learn about the Universe and…"

"How many times must I tell you 'no'? You will not take my daughter away from her home."

The woman speaks sharply to her mother this time. "I should warn you, Mistress Serra, our Guild has considerable power. You know that I can go to your magistrate, if it comes to that."

Her mother scoffs. "Please do. And while you're there, please give my kind regards to his daughter and new grandson."

Inara smiles up at her mother, remembering the day she had returned from the magistrate's daughter's childbed, and how proud she'd been. Her mother saved two lives that day.

"Will you not at least let your daughter consider the question? She is, after all, of an age that allows her to be aware of her choices."

She looks down at Inara, quiet for a moment. Eventually she leads them all back into the room, sitting with her daughter next to her.

Inara listens as the woman in silk speaks to her gently and enthusiastically, explaining the world of possibilities open to her if Inara comes with her back to this place on Sihnon.

"I would get to travel?" she asks, more than just a spark of curiosity in her voice now. She has long wondered when she would be able to see more of the Universe for herself.

"Oh yes, my dear. You could go as far as you wish, once you complete your training. Some women travel to the very edges of the galaxy."

"What would I learn about?"

The woman shifts a little, composing her words. "Companions are trained to bring comfort to others, both emotional and physical. This is what you will learn."

Inara thinks to herself that this sounds quite nice. She has always envied the way her mother is able to do this. "My mother is going to teach me to be a healer, just like her," she says. "She helps people." Next to her, Inara's mother smiles, blinking suddenly.

The woman looks at Inara's mother briefly, and then returns her attention to Inara herself. "This training would also teach you to help people," she explains. "You would bring them happiness and peace of mind. Companions restore balance to people's lives. Does that sound like something you would enjoy?"

Inara nods. "Yes. I would like to do things like that." A thought occurs to her. "How long does it take to learn this training?"

"Several years, darling. These are skills which take some time to master."

This makes her smile a little to herself. She could _master_ this, these ways of bringing comfort to people. But then she turns again to her mother, whose expression does not share her own interest.

"But you do not wish me to go," Inara says to her mother, half in question and half in confirmation. She's still trying to understand this.

Her mother starts to shake her head, then stops, bringing both of her hand's around Inara. "I want you to have opportunities, sweetheart. And what this lady is offering..." she gestures briefly, "This would certainly be an important opportunity for you." She clears her throat, thinking. "I am concerned that there are other things you would miss out on, if you were to do this."

It dawns on Inara then, the reason why this decision seems to be so important. "Would I have to leave now?"

Their visitor interrupts, answering. "You would need to start your training soon, my dear. There are girls younger than you who have already begun. It would be necessary for you to come as soon as possible."

"Oh." Inara considers this. She looks at her mother again. "I wouldn't get to see you?"

Her mother swallows. She reaches her hands out to stroke Inara's face. "I don't know, sweetheart. Not for a very long while, I think." Her voice wavers as she speaks, and it unsettles Inara.

Inara puts her hands on her mother's arms, eventually clasping her mother's steady hands with her own. For several moments the three of them sit in silence, waiting for the girl's response.

Eventually, she shakes her head. She looks back at her mother. "But I don't want to leave you and father. I would miss you so much if I wasn't here…" Even as she considers it, she feels sadness drifting over her, thinking about what the loneliness might be like. She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and something tells her to blink them away – she shouldn't show tears in front of this visitor.

Inara turns again to the woman from Sihnon, lifting her chin a little higher. "I like going to school here. We have the best teachers on all of Demeter, everyone says so," she says without quite understanding why. "And my mother always says healers are needed everywhere in the Universe. I don't want to change my mind."

The woman stiffens again, and this time the gentility has faded from her expression.

Inara is pulled into her mother's arms, startled as she is pressed tightly into the embrace. She wraps her arms around her mother's waist, and thinks that she must have said the right thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**2  
**

Inara trails a finger over the Cortex pad, where the list of ships in Sihnon City harbour gleams and teases at her. She doesn't need to look at it any more to know what it says – in the last hour she's memorized each ship's specifications and narrowed her preferences down to two. Of course, she won't make her final decision until she's looked both Captains in the eye, and examined their shuttles as well. Still, the small Firefly-class vessel has some age around the edges, and possibly some wisdom as well.

Her hand drifts again, along the surface of the desk until it finds the envelope he left for her on the last night they had spent together. Contained within are words of affection that have painted her thoughts so persistently as to make her halt more than once in her plans to leave here.

James had been so coy with her, telling her of the gift he was commissioning for her, how he was only waiting for the right box to put it in. She had smiled, and kissed him back, all the while turning over in her mind the repercussions of being offered an engagement ring from this man. She knew then he was planning his future around her, and she understood the dangers of having come this far with him.

She has lost track of the number of times they've come together, so often has he graced her client roster. It came over her gradually, the realization that his interest in her was more than casual.

Eventually, she'd started refusing payment. They started finding places to meet outside of the Guild houses, and away from the tall cities.

It is her own fault for allowing the relationship to continue like this, carrying on with each other in secret and pushing the rules of the Guild. What's more, she's known all along that it would never be something that could last, and yet she's never had the strength to turn him away – until now.

There has always been something stirred in her from the way he looks at her, and in the sound of his voice when they lie together…The way he kisses her when he thinks she's fallen asleep, his lips trailing gently along her cheek and the back of her neck before he rests his cheek against her shoulder…

Abruptly, she pushes the note away. These are foolish preoccupations, and she knows it. It is fruitless to entertain them, now, when she's already made her decision to leave this place. But last night…he'd practically been on his knees, and in her mind's eye she could see the diamond in his hands. No one has ever made her feel the way he did in that moment. In her mind's eye a window had been opened, looking out into a new world and making her see a different path that had been at her feet all this time.

Closing the way to it had taken more strength than she had thought possible, and she knows already that parting from him is not something she will ever be able to recall easily.

She stands again, the chair rattling as she moves away from the desk. There are still more arrangements to be made, of course, and she can't afford to drift too far into idleness. Once this last day in the Guild's service is over she will be a free Companion, with the entire Universe at her pleasure. This thought manages to comfort her a little. It is what she has dreamed of for so long.

Once again she takes the small Cortex pad in her hands, flicking through the roster of ships. She pauses on the file for one called Serenity, and the image of the ship gleams at her. She's not quite sure why this ship of all must draw her attention like this, but it makes her smile nonetheless.

She's just pulling up the image and biography of Serenity's captain when there is a soft noise at the door, and Inara turns. Her expression must betray her surprise, as the man standing in front of her falters in his step towards her.

"All right then...Clearly my presence here is not something that pleases you."

"James...What are you doing here?" He is the last person she has expected to see today. She thought she had made her intentions clear to him, as difficult as that might have been.

He tries a flicker of a smile, and she quails inwardly at what she needs to say next. Still, he makes the few steps between them, and offers a brief nod towards her writing desk.

"Apparently you haven't been mindful of your calendar."

Her brow knits in concern, and she follows his gaze. She turns to the Cortex again and scrolls back to her calendar file. Sure enough, there in bright blue letters is her current appointment. _Third hour of the afternoon. James Singh, Esq._

She turns it off, quickly. "You made an appointment with me."

"It seemed like the only option left...You refused me last night, you won't respond to my waves..." He opens his hands and reaches for hers. "Inara, _bao bei, _please talk to me..."

"There is nothing left to say, you know that perfectly well." She releases his hands and steps away.

"That's not true and _you_ know that perfectly well, we both have a great deal to say to each other." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out another velvet box. It's long and slim – jewelry of course, perhaps a necklace or a bracelet. She can't let him.

"I'm leaving." Her words stop his own, allowing confusion and disbelief to rise in his voice.

"What? You cannot be serious." His hand shakes a little as he sets down the box. Any gifts are now forgotten.

"I'm very serious. My time in this House is coming to an end, and tomorrow I go to find a ship to sail out on." She turns to the window. Her hands stretch out and take hold, one at the curtain's edge, the other against the carved wooden sill. The sound of her own breath is the only thing she hears.

There is silence for a moment as he takes this in. "This is about us."

"No, this is about me." She swallows. A pause lingers between them, and then as if in additional proof, she turns back and gestures at the velvet box he produced upon his arrival. "I know the kind of gift you are here to offer me, and I cannot accept it."

His expression shows her his unwillingness. He looks nearly horrified at the suggestion. "Truly? You would refuse it even before the gift has been offered?"

She shakes her head. "It is too much." If she wears it for herself, it will only remind her of what she left behind. For her to wear it for another client would feel nearly traitorous, and..."Jewels are too beautiful to be kept hidden in a box, gathering dust. If I cannot wear them as your..." Her tongue halts on the word. _Wife._ She cannot say it, years of training have all but erased it from her vocabulary. "I cannot wear it, whatever it is you have brought me."

She clasps her hands, her fingers twisting together. James stands in surprise, still trying to understand her preemptory refusal. His next question is one she is not prepared for.

"What is it that you are afraid of, Inara?" His voice is still too gentle, despite the significance of his question.

She blinks. "I don't understand what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean." He moves towards her. "And you can't fool me," he adds. "I know what we mean to each other, and I know that you do too. We've been together for too long for you to turn away now...But for some reason you're trying to do just that, and so I have to ask...What is it that you are afraid of?"

She turns away. His questions are hitting their mark, and they strike too deeply for her comfort. "I've let these fantasies play out long enough. I can't stay here and manage to do my job, while looking over my shoulder for something better."

"That's something I very much agree with, Inara, that's the whole reason I came to you last night." He approaches her again. "You and I have something...no woman has ever made me feel..."

"Feel what, James?" She turns to him again, her patience fleeing. "Feel strong? Sensual? That I make you feel like a man? Like the only man in the whole Universe?" She shakes her head. "I've heard all these things before, don't you understand that? You feel this way because I'm good at what I do, not because something between us is meant to be."

Inara watches him take a step back, can see how she has managed to hurt him in so few words. Inwardly, this brings her no satisfaction. She can tell well enough that this conversation is difficult for both of them.

James swallows. "What I was going to say, is that..." He sighs. "You make me feel like a whole person." He moves towards her again, more slowly this time. "And yes, when I'm with you, I do feel like I might as well be the only man in the Universe, because everything and everyone else falls away."

His voice is gentler now, but no less conflicted. He lifts a hand to her face, curving around her cheek even as she lowers her gaze. "And it's no use pretending with me, either."

Inara closes her eyes, willing herself to find more resolve. "This is foolish." She swallows, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am a Companion..."

"You stopped being a Companion with me a long while ago." His hand drifts to hers again, clasping their fingers together as he holds her hand next to him. "I didn't come here to see a Companion, I came here to see you. The woman who would walk barefoot in the sand for miles just to watch a sunset, who would rather drink wine from wooden goblets than the finest Cognac in the finest crystal..."

His body is close next to hers now. She can feel his breath on her cheek as he speaks, and her free hand moves willingly to rest against his chest – but only for a moment.

Still he presses her, forces her to meet his emotions with her own. He's speaking now in restrained earnest, every word steeped in his affection for her. "You told me once about the sort of life you might have wished for, had the Guild not chosen on your behalf."

"Did I?" She shakes her head. "I don't remember that." She knows it is likely she simply does not want to remember, but she does not add this.

They sink together onto the seat near the window. He smiles now, remembering what she does not. "It was a few months ago. We were passing through the villages on the outskirts on our way back to the city, and there was a bookseller's shop."

After a moment she smiles again, gradually but honestly. "Yes..." She remembers now. "And the paintings on the walls..."

His breath leaves him quickly, almost in laughter. He nods in affirmation. "You were taken in by them. You sat for hours, talking with the woman who created them."

Warmth blooms in her at the memory. She recalls how the sun was setting when she finally left the little shop, and the conversations she had with the artist. "She wasn't very well off, I remember. But I remember how happy she was, and how she spoke about her art. She mixed the colours herself, only ever working on one painting at a time...The bookshop was just a way for her to earn enough to buy her brushes and canvases."

"I remember that she gave you one of her brushes," James adds. "You were quite touched, insisted on paying her something in return, though she refused you."

Inara chuckles a little, glancing over at her shelf. A complete set of _The Beaumonde Trilogy_ and _A Short History of Sihnon and Its Moons, volumes 1-4_ came back with her that day. She used to turn their pages often, thinking of the woman she bought them from. The warmth fades from her cheek, just as swiftly as it came.

"I lost the brush," she recalls. "I never painted with it." She doesn't need to add how much it troubled her. Now, months later she'd managed to sweep it all from her mind, but in an instant the day comes back to her so clearly, along with the memories of how thoroughly she'd searched her apartment.

It is James who breaks their silence. "I remember that. You weren't quite the same, that week."

_Or in the weeks after that_, is what she tells herself in her mind. It wasn't long afterwards that she started to think more seriously about her lofty plans to find a ship out of Sihnon.

Inara pulls her hand away from his, though she remains by his side. Truthfully, she feels more unsteady now than she did when he came through her door less than an hour earlier. Now, the knowledge of what she is giving up...he has helped her to understand it and she her resistance has been dulled.

When he reaches for her face his touch is too gentle, still, and she cannot let him continue.

She pulls away suddenly and the words follow, harsher than she had intended. "Stop it. What you are saying to me is all in the past. That woman is no longer who I am."

"This is truly your answer?" His disbelief is fading now, and she knows that bitterness will take its place. Inwardly, she quails at the thought that she is the one to create it.

"I am a Companion. I can choose my clients, my living space, even my price..." She shakes her head. "But that is all. I cannot make the choice you are asking of me. I have been unfair to you over these months, and you deserve much more than what I can offer you."

It nearly pains her to look at him again. The expression he wears is not simply one of sadness or disappointment, but of defeat. He knows he has nothing else to offer her, if his own heart cannot win her to him.

By now the sun has crept lower, its light shining into the room and warming the back of her neck. The shadows in the room ahead of her are obscured by the brightness of the sunbeams, and she is glad of it. There are no details of this scene that she wishes to remember later.

He rises, his hand lingering at his side as if in indecision. Eventually he reaches down and takes one of her hands in his unsteady fingers. He brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss across the pale skin of her palm. She swallows, any other words catching in her throat as she blinks suddenly.

"I would have gone with you anywhere, Inara." His voice is all but a whisper, too full of pain to rise any farther. She cannot answer, nor does she lift her eyes to watch him leave.

It is many moments later when she stands once again, brushing at her eyes and trying to return her mind to the lists of tasks ahead of her.

As she gathers papers and her Cortex from the desk, her gaze alights once more on the small velvet box James had brought with him. He hadn't picked it up again, and she wonders now if he had forgotten it or left it behind on purpose.

Her hand doesn't shake as she reaches for the box, but as soon as it is open she can no longer hold it. The box and its contents clatter once more to the desk's surface.

The breath catches in her throat. Finally she reaches again in front of her, her fingers alighting not on the cold facets of diamonds, but on the smooth comfort of well-worn rosewood. She picks up the paintbrush, in awe that he would have given her this above all things.

It is not the brush she lost, but a new one, its bristles waiting to be dipped in colour, its handle untainted by gloss. He could have given her the most expensive jewels, chains of gold or even the finest perfumes that would have made even the other Companions turn their heads in envy. Instead he has given her this, this simple token that represents so much more than diamonds ever would have.

There is a note as well, another piece that has tumbled from its box. In it are words that she does not need to read, nor will she – she has already turned, and the lists and choices and decisions have all fallen away.

Her feet are already moving, faster and faster until she is running, lost in a blur of silk and light, propelled towards a future she has never thought she would see.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Before leaving her shuttle that afternoon, she takes down the curtains. She allows some to remain, but the colourful layers of fabric that line the walls and bedposts are now removed.

It's a last minute decision. There is something about the bright sheen of the purple and scarlet that mocks her with its cheerfulness. These bright colours do not fit anymore, not today. When she returns she wants nothing else but the simple browns and the greys staring back at her; it is perhaps her own brief way of mourning.

She makes her way through Serenity's still corridors. It takes a bit of adjustment, recognizing the unusual quiet and solitude. But the doctor is there, and that's all she's interested in at the moment. Simon listens to her request without judgement, begins explaining what it will involve.

"It's a simple procedure. Very brief, I have the proper—"

"You don't need to go into detail, Simon," she interrupts him gently. "I'm familiar with how it works."

He nods. "I see. Of course."

Silence lingers then in the infirmary, and even under the bright lights Inara feels cold. She pulls her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and swallows.

"I've never done this before," she adds, as if in further explanation. "It's just something Companions are made ready for." _Part of the job, you might say_, is what she doesn't add. She's watched women before her go through this, and as brief as the procedure has become it's not something that any one of them has felt or understood in the same way.

"I thought you had made appointments on this world. The captain mentioned it when he asked me to stay with Serenity." He's offering sympathy even in his naive confusion. "That is, unless you were not…"

"I require some discretion. I'm sure you can understand that, given the position I am in."

He nods again, perhaps half in admonishment as well as embarrassment. He becomes more tentative again. "Of course. Forgive me, I shouldn't have assumed…"

She's already shaking her head. "You have no need to apologize. You're already doing more than enough. I just...The last thing I need is for people to come into my shuttle inquiring after me."

Simon acknowledges this, and begins again. "Since you mention discretion, I must admit I do wonder a little that you came to me for this."

Her brow furrows slightly. "I don't understand."

"Well, I...I know that there are…" He exhales briefly. "I know there are other ways to bring about a termination. Tonics, injections...They carry certain risks, of course, but I would have thought Companions would be able to avail themselves of these things." His voice is gentle, and she can't fault him for the observation.

In truth, she has to think for a moment before considering her answer. She hasn't actually weighed any of those other options – at least not for very long. Instead she waited for days for the right set of circumstances to present themselves, allowing her to approach Simon at an opportune time.

"Yes, that's true." She clasps and unclasps her hands in front of her. "I suppose I...I suppose those hadn't occurred to me. I trust you, Simon. I know what a capable physician you are. And I think..." She pauses, understanding this just now for herself. "I think also that I don't want to do this alone."

Her voice trembles just slightly at this admission. She swallows, brushes away a stray lock of hair from her face and composes herself again.

Simon shifts, leaning against the edge of the cabinets and standing next to her. He lays a hand on her arm, and she doesn't move away. Though it is a small gesture, she cannot help but appreciate it. She wonders briefly if Simon has ever done anything that wasn't gracious or kind. She's not convinced she's done anything to deserve this kindness from him.

She allows herself to clasp her hand with his for a moment longer, before they begin.

What seems like an impossibly short time later, she's returning to her shuttle again, already bending before she reaches the bed. She lights no candles, nor does she even move to turn on the lamps. The near-darkness is just what she needs, she decides, and she has no desire to convince herself otherwise.

Simon has apprised her exactly of how her recovery will feel over the next couple of days. She already aches, though the physical sensations and emotional whirlwind are even now blurring together. She hasn't cried, nor will she. To do so would be too close to mourning, to wishing she had chosen differently or been given another option.

Women before her have done exactly that, she knows. She has sat by their sides, supported them as they recovered. She has heard them cry, with wishing and regret, or even with the deepest relief and gratitude. These feelings are all luxuries she does not have.

She cannot pretend that any choice exists for her. The life she inhabits does not afford her this. She sinks back in her bed, curls and somehow feels too small, for this room that has nearly started to feel like home.

The dark curtains that divide her sanctuary from the Universe hang open, and dim light flickers in from outside the cockpit. If she listens, she can hear the sounds of the docking harbour, like a distant and steady hum. In another day she'll visit the market for new curtains. She won't hang the others again.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Inara has never learned how to need or receive comfort. There are magistrates and noblemen and artists in a dozen worlds who would move the heavens to receive her ministrations, and each nuance of their desires remains etched into her memories. She's never been asked to catalogue herself in that manner, nor has she ever wished to.

There are voices in her mind, trailing back to her in wisps and reminding her of how she might have been comforted in the presence of loved ones now gone. She aches to hear them. She lights her candles and sits, her eyes closing as she waits. There is warmth against her skin, and light in her thoughts as she kneels.

"_Come rest your mind, child, and sit by me."_

_How can I do that now? There is too much…_

"_You need to let them in, they are here for you now as they are for each other. Always have been."_

_I've forgotten how to be with them. Without him it's not the same._

"_This isn't something you remember or forget. It's just another way to be. I thought you of all people would have realized that by now."_

_You'd be surprised the things I haven't managed to learn._

"_This isn't a competition, either, you're forgetting. It's about people."_

_Is this a sermon now?_

"_That all depends on whether or not you want it to be."_

_Now you're just trying to make me feel better._

"_Calm your mind, child. It's less complicated than you know."_

_What's the answer, then?_

"_Why, love, of course. Compassion, humanity…Love is the beginning and the end. He knew that. I thought you'd have figured that out by now, too."_

Her eyes spring open just then, as the quiet solitude of her shuttle comes rushing back to her, leaving her surprised at the emptiness. Shadows and light, nothing more.

She stands again, then sits at the edge of her bed. Her gaze travels around the room, lighting on different objects. In spite of herself she finds a smile toying at her lips, as another voice comes to her.

"_Ah, make 'em laugh, that's what I say." _

_You expect me to start telling jokes at a time like this?_

"_Sure, why not? Funny stories are good too, 'specially if you can make up words and names as you go along. Always worked on my gorgeous wife..."_

_You know I can't do that, that was your way, not mine._

"_Oh, but if it were hard, believe me, I wouldn't have done it. Laughter's the easy part. So was flying, but don't tell anyone that last thing."_

_Smiles, certainly. I can offer pleasure, comfort…Never laughter._

"_Chin up, doe eyes, you're stronger than you think."_

_Am I?_ _I don't think so, not without him._

"_He's probably off somewhere thinking the same thing about you."_

She's still sitting, head bent into her hands as she comes back to herself. This time she opens her eyes and the shuttle seems smaller, almost too quiet. She pulls the folds of her robe around her, leaning back against the pillows and curling herself up close. Her fingers trace the brocade edges, lighting eventually on a patch of loose threads.

The silence still greets her, and she waits.

_I can't do this alone._

From outside the shuttle doors she can hear footsteps along the catwalk. They become distant again.

_You weren't supposed to leave._

Still nothing except silence and her own thoughts. She leans back farther and tries to rest, pulling the small cushion into her arms. One hand closes over her eyes.

_I need help._

"_Never thought I'd live to see this day."_

She shifts, her brow furrowing slightly.

_Which day is that?_

"_The one where you ask me for help."_

_I've done that before and you know it. Anyway, you didn't live to see this day, that's the problem. _

"_I won't argue with that one."_

_You stupid _hwun dahn_. You knew the danger involved and you went ahead anyway without the slightest regard…_

"_So that's what this is about."_

_What?_

"_You, not gettin' to tell me off one last time."_

_You really are a_ hwun dahn.

"_Truth is, I hadn't gone, they'd a' come right for Serenity and left the rest o' you even worse off. Wasn't about to let that happen."_

_So you are the plucky hero._

"_Now, don't go heapin' titles like that on a man unless you got somethin' to follow it up with. Are we talking statues here? Plaquards? War treaties in my name?"_

_You'd love that, wouldn't you? A memorial to all your foolish nobility._

"_I'll allow the nobility. We might have to have more words on the 'foolish' part."_

_So I can tell._

"_What're you doin' all locked up with your candles and tea set, anyhow? Seems to me there's one or two folk still left on this boat could use some company."_

_So, what now, you expect me to use my…what did you call them? My wiles? At a time like this…"_

"_Weren't talkin' 'bout servicing, woman, just mean a bit o' company is all."_

_I want to. I do. _

"_What are you waiting for then?"_

She sighs. _I want you more. _

There's silence again. She waits, shifting again and dropping the pillow. Her arms wrap around her waist.

_Mal?_

"_Can't a man do some thinkin' for two seconds together?"_

_My apologies._

"_I'm flattered at your sympathy."_

_It's not sympathy that I'm trying for, _ni hwun chiou_, it's grief, can't you see that?_

"_Never was a blind man, neither. I believe your tears could bring a whole galaxy to its knees."_

_I wasn't fishing for compliments._

"_And I wasn't throwin' bait. Tell me madam, you let any o' the rest of them cry with you?"_

Another pause comes to her, and this time her thoughts seem to stumble over each other.

"_I believe I asked you a question."_

_I know you did._

"_Musta had a service for me. Said some pretty words, maybe even a bit o' music…"_

_Of course we did. Next to the others, you know that well enough._

"_I'm bettin' Kaylee spilled more waterworks that day than the rest of you combined."_

_Grieving in private doesn't change what it feels like. Someone has to be strong for the rest of them. _

"_I'm thinkin' that's the next thing we'll have to have words over."_

She exhales, her arms wrapping more tightly as she curls forward.

_I miss you._

"_Ain't been gone so very long as all that."_

_We had so much time before…We wasted too much of it._

"_You'll find your way, I never did doubt that about you."_

_I'm not so sure._

"_Give it time, I'll be sure for you 'till you're ready."_

_There are things I wanted to tell you._

"_I know. Mighta let a few more words in your direction, had I given it another glance."_

_We were both so stupid._

"_Now you're gettin' it."_

_I don't know what to do._

_"Don't believe you."_

_I don't care if you believe me or not. You're the one they need, not me. _

"_Don't try tellin' me you don't need them. Or that they don't need you right back. More out there for you to give, darlin'. Just love 'em, nothin' more."_

_They need you._

"_I heard you the first time."_

_I need you._

There's a pause, now. Her emotions and thoughts are stumbling over one another and all she can do is close her eyes against them. Tears spill, again, and it's a while before she registers anything else.

_"I know you do."_

"Inara?"

The clear voice startles her, bringing her out of her thoughts and making her sit up suddenly.

Kaylee is there now, her small form almost bent in disarray, attempting desperately to manage a smile and swallow her tears, as her hands clutch at a twisted handkerchief.

"Kaylee..." Inara slips her legs around over the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of herself again. "What's going on?"

The young mechanic blinks. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you...I tried knockin' but you didn't answer and I wondered..."

"It's all right," Inara says, exhaling as she rights herself again. She can't help but brush her fingers over her cheeks as she does so, trying to show a happier face for Kaylee. "You're not bothering me."

The girl approaches tentatively and sits, eventually dabbing at her eyes again, too. She clears her throat as if to say something, but no words come.

Inara shifts nearer to her. She presses a hand to Kaylee's, then wraps an arm around her shoulders as well. Kaylee leans in to her as her tears come again, and Inara rests her cheek against the top of her head, for the first time in her life at a complete loss as to what to do next. For a few minutes they simply remain like this, hands clasped in uncertainty, still alone in their grief even amidst presence and comfort.

"Tell me," Inara says finally, her voice sounding small in her ears. "How are the others?"

Kaylee sits up again, brushing a hand across her cheeks. "Oh, well..." She clears her throat again. "I guess they're holdin' up best they can. Zoe hasn't said anything since the service. Don't know what Jayne's up to, but last I saw he was givin' Vera a good cleaning. River's still hiding…" Her thoughts trail off along with her words.

She doesn't mention Simon, and she doesn't have to. He was the one who tried so hard to save Mal, even when he knew it wouldn't make any difference. Inara doesn't need to ask how Simon's doing.

Inara lifts a hand to Kaylee's hair, smoothing it away from her forehead and offering a brief smile. She returns both hands to her lap along with her gaze, her fingers clasped and wishing for a handkerchief of her own. A ragged sigh escapes her. "I can't say that I blame them." She knows she hasn't been doing much else, herself, the past couple of days.

"Not sure any of us know what to do next," Kaylee says, and Inara looks up again, surprised to hear her own uncertainties reflected back at her.

"No, I suppose not..."

Inara looks around the room, thinking. Eventually she stands, gathering her robe around her more closely and looking to where she knelt before.

"Inara?" Kaylee stands, too, as if looking for direction.

"I was just thinking of something..." She opens the chest in front of her, searching. Eventually her fingers catch hold of what she wants, and she pulls it out and stands again.

"Oh..." Kaylee murmurs, brushing her handkerchief under her nose and looking on with interest. "I saw the Cap'n with a bottle o' that, once..."

Inara feels a lightness come over her as she dusts it off, almost smiling to herself. It's only a bottle of whiskey - granted, it's a very fine bottle of whiskey that she was given months ago on Persephone - but all the same it was something she'd been holding on to.

She nods back to Kaylee. "I know. I was saving this one for him," she admits openly, and this time Kaylee's expression shifts to one of vague surprise and something like satisfaction. "In case of a special occasion, of course..."

"Yeah, he woulda liked that." Somehow, now, the girl is smiling to herself.

"I think if we can't drink with him, then we can certainly drink to him," Inara says. "What do you say to that?"

Kaylee nods. "Oh, yes. He'd like that, too."

"All right then."

They turn to leave the shuttle and Inara catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and runs a hand through her hair. Her face is untidy, her robe is crooked and there are wisps of hair falling all over. Hastily she brushes a hand across her cheek before pausing to wonder who she's doing it for.

The smile that she had played at returns again, this time as realizes her own foolishness. It doesn't matter what she looks like. She clasps the bottle in one hand and puts her other arm around Kaylee again, as they move out of the shuttle and down the catwalk. They'll find the others in a few moments.

Kaylee's arms clasp around her waist, and Inara knows there are more tears yet to come. And this is just fine, because she knows that eventually there will also be laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

The threads have been moving easily through her fingers this evening. Hours pass Inara by as she works, first in front of the loom and then the wheel, although it seems like much less time – it always does. And so it takes her by surprise when she hears his footsteps behind her, although she doesn't look up. Not yet. There are still a few more strands of colour that need to be spun into place, and her foot continues to work at the pedals.

He approaches her softly but easily, eventually bending to fit himself behind her and let his hands rest on her shoulders. He presses his lips against her bare neck – easier, since she cut away several inches of her hair. She thinks now that she did it not so much out of practicality but for the ease it gives him in touching her skin, and every night he confirms this for her.

"Mmm…" Her hands pause in their movements, and she leans back against him a little more. His hands start to press, gently easing some of the tension that has crept into her over the day. This, she knows, is one of the reasons she never tires of working like this. She smiles to herself, closing her eyes for a moment as his fingers work.

At first, she used those rare spare moments to go back to working at her canvas, a few months after they came to the property here on Demeter. There was something familiar about trying the brush strokes again, even though she'd only ever toyed with painting a very long while ago. After a while their farm grew to include horses, and then sheep followed, and they were left with a sudden abundance of wool.

"Did you get anything to eat?" She lets her hands fall against her lap, relaxing the strands of wool and allowing the wheel to spin to a standstill.

He sniffs in amusement. "Was about to ask you the same thing. How long have you been workin' at this today?" he asks gently, as his right thumb finds a knot in her shoulder. He presses harder against the spot and she murmurs her appreciation.

Blinking, Inara thinks about this. "Since this afternoon, I think. Finished one blanket and took a little break before spinning some more."

"Saw you heading off to the barn with Mrs. Zhang and her son. She take those four bags of raw wool?"

"Five, actually. She's going to drop them all off at the spinnery and keep one for herself once it's been processed. I got some new dyes from her in exchange."

"You know, we'd probably turn a tidier profit on these if you'd send more of it out like that," he reminds her. He reaches around her and fingers some of the wool she's working with. In one hand is a vibrant indigo blue, in the other a deep peacock green. She doesn't need to look at him to know that he's trying to follow the colours, through their joined paths on the spindle. He once told her it made him dizzy, figuring out how she did it.

"I don't know about that," she says with a smile, finally letting the wool slip from her hands. "My patrons have come to expect a certain level of craftsmanship from me, I can't let them down now."

She always refers to them as patrons, the people who commission her work – never clients. 'Clients' are of the past, a word that no longer exists in her vocabulary.

Inara turns in her seat, bringing her arms around Mal's neck. She lets one hand run over his cheek – her hands are never softer than after a day at her wheel – and then smoothes her fingers through his hair and pulls away a stray piece of straw. "You've had a long day, too," she observes.

He lets out a breath, though he still smiles a little. "An' then some. Might finally have a few ranch hands worth keepin' on for the whole season."

"I'm glad to hear it." She means it, knowing as she does how many long days have come before, and how many will still follow. It's only in the last few months that they've been able to hire enough people to keep everything running at once, and Inara has been able to devote more time to her own creative work. She's spent plenty of days at work at Mal's side, and occasionally she still does.

Some days they argue. Other days they find each other around the shadowy side of the barn, on a spare pile of hay.

Inara's hands shift around behind his neck, and down to his shoulders. She can tell he's got a few kinks of his own. "I think I'm not the only one who's due for a bit of relaxation, then." She smiles, before pressing her lips to his. She's gentle, kissing him briefly as though concluding her observation.

Mal needs no help in coming to that same conclusion, though, and he allows her to pause only briefly. He kisses her back, deeply this time as if doing so for the first time in days. He's pulling her closer to him as his mouth opens to hers, tasting her and entreating her further as they move swiftly beyond greetings and catching up and events of the day.

There's a chill in the air tonight, but neither of them notice this in the slightest. Her hands slip now beneath the folds of his collar, pulling open the top buttons and pressing against the muscles of his chest. His hands are moving around her body, pulling at the hem of her tunic and circling around her slim waist.

In another time Mal might have been tentative, even now after so many days and nights in her presence. Shadows of the past might have come between them, overlapping with Inara's touch and keeping her from seeing the man in front of her. Those moments, though, have long since been banished to the past.

Instead, when he lifts her to him there is only adoration, and only love is in her touch when she lets him carry her to the bed they share. The language they are writing for each other is new, just as each day has been new since the day they made their choices. The only regrets that remain are those that propel them forward, into each other's arms and towards the only certainties that remain.

_FIN_

_**Feedback is cherished :)**_

CS


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